


Burnt Lilacs

by XxlemonadexX



Series: Dream SMP: Who They Used To Be [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Regret, dream is not human in this but i think you can figure that out by reading the fic dsdhsjdsk, dreamnotfound if u squint, takes place right after l'manburg is destroyed for good, this fic tries to answer that question, where does dream come from?, who is he?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:09:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29577990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxlemonadexX/pseuds/XxlemonadexX
Summary: "There it is again. The pit in Dream’s stomach, the bitter taste at the back of his tongue. Memories. Dream curled his lip in distaste and looked away from George, instead focusing his gaze on the landscape below. "On the night of L'Manburg's destruction, Dream is reminded of a past that he often wishes he didn't have.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Dream SMP: Who They Used To Be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172966
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Burnt Lilacs

“I think,” Dream said easily, eyes holding a sadistic glint within them as he maintained Tommy’s gaze, “that you’re just  _ too fun.”  _

Dream had meant it, as least at the time he’d said it. 

But when he looked back at Tommy, when he saw the way those young, fury filled eyes stared straight back at him, the way the boy’s lower lip quivered slightly despite his feign attempts to appear unafraid…

He saw himself. 

\----------------------------------------------------

For the most part, Dream had worked to suppress the few memories he had of his adolescence. It’s not like he had many to suppress, anyway. Immortality had the tendency to do that to a person. 

But still, occasionally, he would see something, or catch a certain scent on the wind, or hear a particular sound, and a memory would come back to him. 

It was rarely ever clear, and more often than not it was fuzzy, fragmented. It was usually gone before he could properly register it. But still, it reminded Dream that he had a past. It kept him tethered, horribly tethered, to the world in a way that he despised. To be aware of having a past, to know that he came from somewhere… it haunted him. 

Obviously, Dream knew that he used to have a family. He assumed so, at least. Their faces were muddled, practically non-existent in his mind, but sometimes, if he concentrated hard enough, he could occasionally grasp at a particular facial feature or voice. And then, the moment he’d caught the memory, it would slip away again, like sand through his fingers. 

Memory was funny like that.

But never before had any sight, any sound or scent or texture--never before had  _ anything  _ triggered a memory quite as strong as this one.

Looking down at Tommy, Dream suddenly felt sick to his stomach. 

He didn’t let it show, of course. He barely even flinched, kept his gaze relaxed and unwavering, and maintained a taunting sort of smirk. But underneath his netherite armor, underneath the cold exterior he’d built for himself, the exterior he’d had  _ no choice  _ in creating--

He could see himself as a boy, face illuminated by a billowing fire. He could feel smoke in his lungs, and an unbearable ache in his joints. He could feel tears falling steadily down his cheeks, and in the distance, he could hear screams. They were endless, and agonized, and  _ horrible,  _ and suddenly the boy had fallen to his knees, hands clamped over his ears, crying aloud, for someone,  _ anyone  _ to just--

“But, I’ll see you soon.”

Dream turned away from Tommy, then, and collected himself. As he strode away from Tommy and Tubbo on that obsidian precipice, he could feel blood pooling at his fingertips as his nails dug into the skin of his palm. 

\----------------------------------------------------

The day of L’Manburg’s destruction faded into the night, and Dream found himself wandering away from the town’s ruins,  _ far  _ away. He had no intention of returning for a while, just to avoid any more unnecessary conflict. 

He knew they were angry. He hadn’t missed it, the way Quackity’s eyes bore into his back as he departed, the bloodthirsty glint in his gaze. Dream wondered how long it would take for them to plan an ambush, or some kind of assassination against him in the coming weeks. 

He’d be ready for them. 

Lost in his thoughts, Dream flinched rather violently at the sound of a stick cracking in the snow behind him, and whipped out his bow without a second thought. However, as he turned his gaze to the location of the noise, he saw only a small Arctic rabbit, looking up at him timidly with large, red eyes. 

Dream scoffed aloud, lowering his bow as he allowed his shoulders to relax a fraction. He considered killing the stupid thing just for startling him like that, but before he could, the rabbit had already hopped back into the darkness. He watched it go silently, his bow at his side. 

He used to chase rabbits through the meadow, when he was a boy.

Dream shook his head, swallowing hard as his fingers clenched around his bow. He felt a familiar discomfort, a familiar dissonance that usually came along with old memories. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, as if the memory didn’t belong there. As if it wasn’t even him who experienced it. 

He continued on, his boots crunching the snow beneath his feet as he entered the taiga, and beams of moonlight reflected aimlessly off his armor. 

As he walked, Dream wondered what the citizens of L’Manburg--well, what had _once_ been L’Manburg--were up to, after everything that had taken place. Maybe they were already attempting to rebuild. Dream laughed to himself, wondering where they’d even begin. 

They’d thank him for this, one day. 

Dream eventually found a nice patch of ground to sit on, a small cliffside with spruce trees scattered about the terrain. He set his bow aside, letting out an exhale. His breath came out in wisps of fog before him.

As Dream was settling back on the grass, about to lift a hand to his mask to push it aside, he heard the signature sound of an Ender pearl materializing behind him. 

Dream didn’t move at first, his hand stilling on his chipped mask. He lowered his eyes to his bow, his fingers twitching towards it beneath the cover of darkness. At that moment, he heard the sound of snow crunching a few feet from behind him. 

Without thinking, Dream felt himself leaping to his feet, immediately brandishing his bow at the offender. In the shadows of the forest, Dream was unable to identify who they were, but as they took a slight step towards him, raising their hands forward, he allowed his instincts to take charge. 

Dream had the figure pinned against the nearest tree faster than a blink. He heard them let out a quick cry of surprise, but he only responded by pushing the arrow of his bow into their neck. They scrabbled at his arms, sputtering, and as the clouds above the forest finally broke apart, the moonlight at last revealed their panicked features. 

“Get--get the hell off me, you prick!” George managed to spit out angrily, but his eyes conveyed fear. 

It took Dream a moment to gather his wits, but he eventually backed off, releasing George from his position against the tree. The shorter man huffed, adjusting his collar beneath his netherite chestplate, and Dream tried to steady his breathing, calloused fingers flexing against the bow’s handle. 

“Did you follow me?” Dream asked simply, as if he hadn’t just slammed George against a tree hard enough to hurt. George glared at him, massaging his neck from where the arrow had prodded into the sensitive skin. 

“I just wanted to  _ talk  _ to you,” grumbled George. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that, hasn’t it?” 

Dream looked at George for a moment, but forced his gaze away after a couple seconds had passed. 

“Well. We’ve both been busy,” Dream muttered.

George looked at him carefully, as if he was waiting for Dream to walk away, or tell him to piss off. When he didn’t, George moved to sit down. He shifted over to the patch of grass that Dream had been sitting on, and settled down silently. After a moment, George glanced up at Dream, who was still staring at him. 

“What are you waiting for?” deadpanned George, and Dream shook himself out of his thoughts, distracted. He sat down beside George in the grass, making sure there was a good amount of space between them. He could feel George eyeing him, but refused to give in and meet his gaze. 

The two sat in a mildly uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds around them being the wind in the trees and the occasional shuffling of woodland creatures. Eventually, though, George spoke.    


“So...L’Manburg is gone, then?”

Dream exhaled, tilting his head up to the sky. 

“Yeah.”

George fiddled a little with the thread of his cape, the fabric having lost most of its color. Where it was once a vibrant scarlett, it was now a faded mahogany. The shorter man chewed the inside of his cheek as he turned the thread over in his fingers. 

Dream turned his head, his eyes catching onto George’s hands, noting the way he was kneading the fabric with his thumb. His mouth opened to ask where the cape was from, he thought he recognized it--

And then he did.

It was the cape that Dream had proudly presented to George when he’d first crowned him King. 

Dream remembered the way George had grinned, his eyes twinkling with absolute elation as Dream gave it to him. The way he’d laughed when the crown had been placed upon his head, slightly too big to fit. 

George had laughed just the same way he used to when they were young, in those rolling meadows.

There it is again. The pit in Dream’s stomach, the bitter taste at the back of his tongue.  _ Memories.  _ Dream curled his lip in distaste and looked away from George, instead focusing his gaze on the landscape below. 

“What will you do now?” 

Dream leaned back, arms behind his head. He chose to answer George’s question with a question of his own.

“George...do you think I’m cruel?” 

George paused, briefly caught off guard at question. He glanced down at Dream, but the man was looking elsewhere, his gaze instead focused on the night sky above them. The former king followed his gaze upwards.

“Only when you want to be,” George said. His grip on the cape tightened slightly between his fingers. 

Dream didn’t look at George when he spoke next. 

“I don’t...do the things I do because I want to be cruel.” 

Dream swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly with the movement. His hands shook slightly at his sides, and he remembered with absolute clarity the way Tommy had looked at him on that precipice. The kid hated him. 

“I didn’t exile Tommy because I wanted to be cruel,” Dream said carefully, a slight edge to his voice now, as if he were defending himself from a nonexistent attack. “I needed--I just needed him  _ out of the way _ .” 

He felt George staring at him, burning a hole in the side of his head, but he didn’t turn. 

“I’ve been in a war before,” Dream said dryly. “Before Tommy, before L’Manburg--before  _ all of this _ . Everything I do, everything I’ve done on this goddamn server…” 

Dream trailed off. George noted the way his jaw ticked, as if he had arrived at some sort of psychological barrier. The shorter man looked away, feeling as though he was seeing something he shouldn’t be. 

The two sat in silence for a few more minutes, the leaves rustling slightly around them as the wind kicked up loose snow. Dream shivered slightly as a particularly icy breeze passed him, and George caught sight of it. He looked at Dream, then down at his cape. 

“What are you doing?” Dream uttered blankly, as George’s cape was draped over his shoulders. George chuckled a little, sitting back on his portion of the grass. 

“You were cold.” 

Dream noted the way the cape felt around him. It was thin, and didn’t do much to alleviate the icy chill around them, but Dream could faintly detect a vaguely pleasant scent on the fabric. Lavender, and honey. He swallowed, shakily bringing a hand to touch the cape, feeling lingering warmth on it from being around George’s shoulders. 

“I need to go.” 

Dream rose to his feet, allowing the cape to slide off his shoulders and back into the snow. George watched it fall, eyes hard with something that Dream couldn’t place, but didn’t care to. 

Dream grabbed his bow, straightening his mask as he moved to depart, but before he could leave, George spoke. 

“When am I going to see you again?”

Dream paused. He stood in the snow, back facing George, as he contemplated how to respond. He thought of the cape, lying in the snow behind him. An offering of warmth, of friendship. Sentiment.

He was tired of allowing sentiment to control him. 

“Things have changed, George,” Dream finally said, turning around to look at the shorter man with a calm and detached gaze. “I know  _ I _ have.” 

George looked up at him from his spot on the grass, his expression almost resembling one of disappointment, and anger.

“Have you? Or have you just stopped caring?” 

Dream left without another word, a silent goodbye bitter on his tongue. 

\----------------------------------------------------

_ The meadow felt endless, rolling into the horizon. Scatterings of lilacs dotted the field, and as the sun began to set, three young boys clambered over one another, laughing and shrieking in the evening light.  _

_ “Sapnap!” yelled one of the boys, fair skinned and brunette. “Stop, that’s not fair! It was my turn to be it!”  _

_ The second boy, adorning a head of raven hair and a silk bandana, laughed hysterically as he tackled the first to the ground. “I GOT YOU, GEORGIE, I GOT YOU!”  _

_ The third boy was blonde and slightly freckled, with a porcelain white mask concealing the top half of his face. He was taller than the other two, and looked to be the most mature of the three. He stood a few feet from the others, wheezing at their antics.  _

_ “Dream, tell him to stop, he’s CHEATING!” screamed George, but there was a wide grin on his face regardless as he attempted to push Sapnap off him.  _

_ “Am NOT!”  _

_ “Are TOO!”  _

_ Dream snorted, moving to break the two apart, “Sapnap, it’s not your turn--” _

_ Sapnap turned his attention to Dream then, a wild expression on his face. Before Dream could move to defend himself, Sapnap had tackled him to the ground instead. Dream began to shriek with laughter, attempting in vain to kick his best friend off him.  _

_ “Why are you hitting yourself, why are you hitting yourself?!” Sapnap cried, using Dream’s own hand to smack into the side of his face. George collapsed to the ground beside them, clutching his stomach in silent laughter.  _

_ Dream snorted, attempting to push his own hand back against Sapnap’s puppeteering, but in their tussle, Dream didn’t notice as Sapnap’s other hand moved down to his mask.  _

_ It may not have even been intentional on Sapnap’s part. It could have just been him trying to move Dream’s mask out of the way so he could slap him better. But regardless, Dream’s fight or flight instinct took over as part of his face became exposed, and he snapped.  _

_ In barely a blink, Dream had grabbed both of Sapnaps wrists in a bruising grip and switched their positions, slamming Sapnap’s body into the ground hard enough to hurt. The strength Dream exuded was inhuman, unnatural for his age and size, and Sapnap froze in fear beneath him, any trace of a smile gone from his face.  _

_ Dream wore an expression that could kill, a look of aggression so intense that Sapnap began to shake under him, tears welling in his brown eyes. George was no longer laughing, either, and was instead looking at Dream with fearful confusion.  _

_ All Dream knew at that moment was that was angry. Angry, and afraid. Nobody touched his mask.  _ Nothing _ was supposed to touch his mask. His mask kept him safe. It was the last thing he had from his old life, it was  _ all he had left.

_ “Dream?” _

_ Dream whipped his head sharply to stare at George, eyes frazzled and unfocused. George looked scared, but he still was extending a hand towards him tentatively.  _

_ “Dream, you’re hurting him.”  _

_ Dream stopped, George’s words cutting through the red haze in his mind. He blinked, confused at first. And then he looked down to Sapnap, the boy he was currently pinning to the ground.  _

_ Sapnap was crying, tears falling down his cheeks and streaking through the dirt on his skin. He didn’t even seem to notice his own tears, shivering under Dream with a primal fear in his eyes, wrists bruised by Dream’s vice-like grip. And then everything became painfully clear again.  _

_ Dream scrambled off of Sapnap, releasing him as quick as he could. He scooted backwards in the grass, his mask still hanging lopsidedly on his face so one striking green eye could be seen. He rushed to fix it, desperately wanting to hide behind the porcelain again. He began to cry, too, foreign tears rushing to his eyes as Sapnap moved to sit up. _

_ “I-I’m sorry--” Dream hiccuped, hands shaking violently as he pushed himself away from them, shame and grief overwhelming him at what he’d done. “Sa-Sapnap, I’m sorry.”  _

_ Sapnap and George seemed dazed, not knowing what to say. They huddled close together, like they were trying to comfort each other. Like they were scared of him. Dream’s eyes burned, and almost against his own volition, his legs forced him to his feet, and then he was running.  _

_ Dream stopped a ways away, once he’d reached a small pond clearing. He collapsed beside the water, shuddering with unshed tears. With trembling fingers, he unclasped the mask from his head, allowing it to free his face. He turned it over, staring at the plain white of it, the voidlike quality it seemed to have.  _

_ Anger and shame burned within him, and in that moment, he hated the mask. He hated it,  _ hated  _ it, and he almost threw it into the water, wanting to watch it sink into the depths. But regardless, he clutched the mask in his hands, feeling an indescribable attachment to the thing.  _

_ It was all he had left of his people, and his life. _

_ “Dream?” _

_ Dream tensed at the hesitant voice behind him. He swallowed, weighing the mask slightly in his hands, before he reluctantly fastened it back against his face. Once it was secure, he turned around.  _

_ Sapnap and George stood a few feet from him, looking cautious, but not frightened. Sapnap’s eyes were still red rimmed, but his tears were gone now. Dream sniffled, bringing his knees to his chest, but didn’t respond.  _

_ Sapnap and George interpreted that as an invitation, and the two of them moved to sit on either side of him. The three sat in silence for a while, at the shore of the pond, and watched the water lap gently against the sand. Eventually, Sapnap spoke.  _

_ “That mask means a lot to you, huh?”  _

_ Dream’s lower lip quivered, and he continued to stare at the water. After a moment, he dipped his head once in confirmation.  _

_ Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sapnap and George exchange looks. He waited for the inevitable moment where they would leave him, where they’d call him a freak and not want to play with him anymore. But the opposite occurred.  _

_ Silently, Sapnap shifted towards the pond. He reached a hand into the water and dug around below the surface. Dream eyed his movements questioningly, and watched as he pulled out a clump of dark clay. Sapnap moved back beside him, gesturing for Dream to face him. Cautiously, Dream obeyed.  _

_ Carefully, Sapnap dipped a finger into the wet mass of clay in his hand, and then raised his hand towards Dream’s mask, a silent question. When Dream remained still, Sapnap applied some of the clay to the mask’s surface carefully, painting it. Dream didn’t ask what he was doing, or why. George watched silently. _

_ After a few minutes, Sapnap sat back, a small, triumphant smile on his face. He tossed what remained of the clay into the water before getting to his feet, moving to pull Dream up with him. George followed suite, grinning when he caught sight of Dream’s mask. Dream looked between the two of them, confused.  _

_ “What? What did you--” _

_ Sapnap interrupted him, gesturing towards the tranquil surface of the pond.  _

_ “Look!”  _

_ Despite the boy’s confusion, Dream obeyed Sapnap’s instructions, stepping over some stray rocks at the shore of the pond before he leaned over, peering down at his reflection in the water.  _

_ Although it was a bit crudely painted, Dream could tell immediately what it was. Two dots, and a shaky line stretched below them. A smiley face.  _

_ Dream couldn’t help it--he grinned, before his grin broke into a laugh. Soon enough, all three of them were laughing, giggling with one another as they all admired Dream’s reflection in the pond’s surface.  _

_ Eventually, they stepped back, their laughter easing up into soft smiles as they stood with one another. Sapnap pulled Dream and George into a wordless hug, and despite George’s initial squirming and complaints, he returned the embrace nonetheless.  _

_ In this moment, Dream thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t lost everything.  _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oh my gosh hello! you made it! thank you sm for reading my first A03 fic! i'm planning on posting maybe a few follow ups to this one in a series, cause i started writing this before the whole prison!dream arc happened. 
> 
> also, the title was inspired by flower language! according to like one website i visited, lilacs symbolize a 'joy of youth'. 
> 
> i hope u enjoyed, and kudos/comments are always appreciated <3


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